


35 Black Marks: The Times it Happened That Led Us to This

by BlackWingBecci



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brief Intercrural Sex, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Panic Attacks, panic disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 20:03:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1048003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackWingBecci/pseuds/BlackWingBecci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It happened 35 times. </p><p>(Or, Enjolras and Grantaire are both idiots who can’t admit their love for each other, even when they’re having sex.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	35 Black Marks: The Times it Happened That Led Us to This

The thirty-fifth time it happened, it was the last time.

They had fallen asleep curled around each other.

And it all led to this.

-x-

The first time it happened, it was the result of a heated argument, and the sex that followed echoed this. 

Fuelled by the anger that had being pulsing through their veins before they started and the long months of pent up and unresolved feelings they both had, it was all rough hands and passionate kisses. Grantaire had reached the point where he couldn’t take how gorgeous Enjolras looked when he was arguing about his beliefs and how amazing he was when he spoke and his passion and beliefs shone through, so he had interrupted the cause bullshit the blonde was sprouting by pushing his lips to the other’s full red ones. He expected to be pushed away and be left with a furious Enjolras, but instead he ended up pressed between his apartment’s wall and Enjolras’ body with the other man’s hand down the front of his sweat pants.

It had been one of those days when Enjolras had shown Grantaire that even though they fight a lot and the blonde is often cruel and harsh, the two are still friends. He had shown up at the artist’s apartment in the evening with take-away and a speech he was stuck on. Grantaire had wolfed down the Chinese food as he helped Enjolras unravel the knots in the speech he needed for the next protest he was planning, forgetting about the bottle of wine he had gotten out earlier – which Enjolras put away some point in the night. And then they had started arguing about some point in the speech that neither remembered later. And then it happened.

After it was over, Grantaire was rather hazy on the details, lying on his couch in some sort of stupor as Enjolras dressed around him. He remembered the feeling of having Enjolras’ strong fingers wrapped around his cock – how different it was from his own, which was all he had experienced until then – and the feel of gripping Enjolras with his hand. It had all been over so quickly and Grantaire had been so shocked that it was happening that he didn’t have chance to register much else but that. That and the look of pure pleasure on Enjolras’ face when he had climaxed. That was a look Grantaire would always remember.

He had only come back to himself and the situation when Enjolras sat on the end of the couch and stared at the shoes in his hands, as though he was reluctant to put them. His blue eyes darted to Grantaire for a moment before they returned to staring fixedly at the shoes and Grantaire realised what must be going on. He was embarrassed, ashamed, for having just done that with Grantaire but he was too nice to admit it. Of course it had been a mistake for Enjolras to lower himself to someone like Grantaire. That was why Grantaire hid his feelings for the other man from everyone – even from himself to a certain extent.

“What have you got planned tonight?” Grantaire had asked before he could stop himself. He was glad he kept the needy, hopeful tone out of his voice but still felt like an idiot for asking. It was Enjolras, whatever he had planned – and Grantaire was sure he would definitely have his night planned to the minute – was going to be important. Infinitely more important than Grantaire could ever be. And hearing the man confirm that himself would hurt.

“I was going to update the blog.” Enjolras had told him, again quickly glancing at R’s face before looking back down at his shoes. Of course he wanted to get back to the cause as soon as possible, but Grantaire was holding him back as usual. He couldn’t go until he let Grantaire down gently and made sure he knew it was a mistake but not R’s fault. Grantaire hadn’t wanted an explanation, he hadn’t needed one, and he couldn’t handle hearing it in that perfect voice and from those perfect lips.

“You should go get to it then.” He didn’t look at Enjolras after that. He stood, pulled his trousers up and took the empty cartons to his kitchen – anything so he didn’t have to watch the blond leave. When he didn’t hear the other man move he shouted again. “Don’t leave them waiting.” After he heard the door, he pulled out the bottle of wine again. He had needed it.

-x-

The second time it happened, it was just as unexpected and confusing.

Enjolras had been frustrated and on edge ever since Grantaire had dismissed him after their first encounter. He had spent ages dealing with and considering his developing feelings – though that had all flown out of his brain when Grantaire had kissed him – and then after that night he was back at square one. He had been sure Grantaire had feelings for him as well, from the way he acted towards him and the not-so-subtle hints some of the Amis dropped around him. But he had to accept that wasn’t true. Grantaire didn’t have feelings for him, he was only attracted to him.

It was the only thing that made sense to Enjolras. Grantaire’s interest was only in his appearance, and so once they had sex of course Grantaire had asked him to leave. He must have thought Enjolras was only interested in sex as well. He and their friends had completely misunderstood the situation. It made sense when he looked back, any interest Grantaire had shown in him had been directed towards his appearance. The drunk comments on how gorgeous he looked, the occasions he caught the other man just staring at him and how Grantaire only seemed to actually take any real interest in him if Enjolras did something that drew attention to his appearance.

For a week, Enjolras had practically avoided Grantaire. He didn’t know how to interact with the other man knowing he had feelings for him that were definitely not returned. And, he was caught between accepting Grantaire’s position and being furious at him for just seeing Enjolras’ looks – which so many people do, overlooking the fact that Enjolras is so much more than just that. He trusted Grantaire, like he trusted all of his friends, and so it really hurt knowing Grantaire saw him like that – especially Grantaire given his feelings for the man. Then it was Courfeyrac’s birthday, and Enjolras couldn’t avoid him completely.

Enjolras had tried to avoid Grantaire that night at Courf’s as well. It had been surprisingly easy at first –Enjolras supposed Grantaire was also avoiding him – and he drank more than he usually would as he dealt with seeing Grantaire flirt with random party-goers. However, when the other guests left and it was only the Amis left – and Enjolras was pretty much hammered – they were forced together. Not too aware of what he was doing, Enjolras found himself pushed on the couch next to Grantaire and squished up against him, their legs and hips pressed together and their arms and hands brushing the other’s body at the slightest movement. Enjolras gritted his teeth and bore it as long as he could, but eventually the memories from the other night and his feelings became too much and he jumped out of his seat and ran to the bathroom, ignoring the worried calls that followed him.

He had managed to get a hold of himself somewhat in the bathroom. Enjolras forced his breathing to calm down and, though his arousal wasn’t completely gone, it wasn’t noticeable. He left the bathroom, trying to come up with an excuse for why he had fled the room, but didn’t make it any further than just one step outside.

Grantaire was in the corridor, leaning heavily against the wall, with one hand curled into a fiat that looked so tight it hurt and one hand down the front of his unzipped jeans. His eyes were squeezed shut, his face was red and he was heavily. All of Enjolras’ arousal had come rushing back when he saw the other man and remembered how he had looked exactly the same that other night when it had been Enjolras’ hand manipulating Grantaire’s cock. R’s red, red lips parted and his tongue flicked out to wet them, followed by a moan and a quiet but unmistakable ‘Enjolras’.

Enjolras couldn’t help the groan that slipped from his own lips and Grantaire’s eyes flew open, locking with his. Embarrassment and shame coloured the other man’s face even more and he hurriedly pulled his hand out of his jeans, trying to stammer some form of apology and do his fly up. Acting on instinct and the alcohol flowing through his veins, Enjolras crossed the distance between them and collapsed to his knees. He forced Grantaire’s fumbling hands away and pulled his jeans and underwear down, freeing the hard cock they were covering.

“Enjolras.” Grantaire had choked out, his hands scrabbling at the wall behind him as Enjolras stared at his revealed groin. “What are y…” Enjolras effectively stopped him from talking by swallowing him as deep as he could.

Grantaire didn’t try speak again but his breathing became even more laboured and his hands scratched at the wall even more furiously. Enjolras wasn’t too sure what he was doing, letting his free mind and all he remembered from his friends’ lewd storied lead his mouth and tongue. He hadn’t worried about how he was doing, because Grantaire’s reactions showed he was enjoying it, it didn’t take long for the other man to finish, and Enjolras gladly swallowed it down.

He considered what he had done while Grantaire had settled onto his knees as well, and he expected some sort of rebuke from the dark-haired man. Instead, lips were forced against his own and a tongue quickly found its way into his mouth. Grantaire seemed to seek out the taste of himself and Enjolras started at the other’s hand fumbling with his own jeans. He kissed R back feverishly as he was brought to his own climax by the artist’s skilful hands. The alcohol clouding his mind prevented him from feeling any semblance of shame over how quickly he finished – giving away how much blowing Grantaire had turned him on – and how tightly he clung to Grantaire when it was other, shame he would have felt if he had been all there. That was the last thing Enjolras’ remembered from that night.

The next thing he remembered was waking up the next morning in Marius’ bed curled up with Grantaire. His mouth was unbearably dry, his head was banging, he felt nauseous and he really needed to pee, but with R’s arm around his waist and his breath tickling the back of his neck, he didn’t want to move. Later, Courfeyrac had told him how he had found him and Grantaire curled up together in the hall and put them to bed since Marius was staying at Cosette’s. Fortunately, Courf’ hadn’t seen any signs of the sex that had occurred. Enjolras had allowed himself a few moments to languish in the feeling of waking up with Grantaire curled around him – sure it would be the only time it happened – and then got up and left Grantaire to wake up in the bed alone, unable to deal with the dismissal he was sure would come again.

-x-

The third time it happened, Grantaire made a decision. 

He had been sat at the back of the backroom of the Musain like he usually did during the Amis’ meetings, watching Enjolras and Combeferre argue over how much they should push in an upcoming protest. Enjolras was ready to do anything needed to get their point across but Combeferre was trying to argue caution, not wanting it to end like the last protests did with blood and handcuffs. Though Grantaire supposed trying was the optimum word, since it had done nothing to dissuade Enjolras from risking his safety and freedom again. The meeting was disbanded quickly after with everyone feeling tense and anxious and Enjolras so worked-up that he his hands were shaking and his jaw was clenched painfully tight. Grantaire had hung around in the backroom rather than going on to the Corinthe with Joly and Bossuet like he usually would, and it paid off when Enjolras dropped his bag and sent his papers everywhere. He helped the blonde pick his things up and insisted on carrying the bag for him despite Enjolras’ protests. He walked all the way back to Enjolras’ building and followed him up the stairs and into the flat without taking his eyes off the other for too long. Enjolras had definitely been that stressed and shaken before, but it had been happening more frequent those past few weeks, and Grantaire was worried.

He made tea for them both in Enjolras’ kitchen, knowing where everything was from the many times he has been there. And when he took the mugs into living room he hadn’t been able to stop himself from sighing when he found Enjolras pouring over the protest plans again. Grantaire put the mugs of tea on the coffee table – a safe distance away from the paper – and sat on top off of the table in front of Enjolras, completely covering the plans. Ignoring how this left Enjolras staring at his crotch, Grantaire nudged him and smirked when the blonde glared at him.

“You’re too stressed to be doing this now.” He handed Enjolras one of the mugs as he spoke. “Rest tonight, and then you can approach it with a fresh mind tomorrow.” Enjolras glared a few seconds longer before his face softened, he accepted the mug and then sat back in the sofa.

Grantaire smiled at him and sat beside him, confident enough that Enjolras wouldn’t immediately jump on the papers he uncovered. They drank their teas in comfortable silence, and Grantaire had come to a realization in the process. He had slowly realised over the past week – since the blowjob he had received of a drunken Enjolras – that Enjolras wasn’t going to make excuses and brush of their encounters as mistakes. The blonde could have taken many opportunities during the past two weeks since the first incident, like the situation they were in right then, but he hadn’t. And Grantaire had an epiphany at that moment. Enjolras didn’t think the sex was a mistake. Grantaire knew he definitely didn’t have feelings for loose drunk like himself, but he supposed he didn’t mind having sex with him.

Grantaire could see how tense Enjolras still was, even after taking a break and drinking the tea. The dark-haired man couldn’t help but make the comparison in his mind to how relaxed the other man had been during sex. How easy the blonde moved under his touch, how soft and comfortable Enjolras had been as their bodies easily slid together. And that’s when he had the thought that maybe that was another way he could help Enjolras and help himself. Grantaire was sure that was why Enjolras had let it happen before, because he was too stressed and he needed relief. R could do so little for the man he loved, but he knew he could definitely help him relax with sex if Enjolras permitted it. And that would be the only way he could be that close to him.

He waited until Enjolras had finished his tea and put the mug down before he slowly slid closer, pressing their sides together. He could feel how tense Enjolras was; the way his muscles were pulled tight and his body seemed to hum with a nervous energy. Grantaire felt that nervous himself, not really believing what he was about to do, but he pushed the doubts to the back of his mind and placed his hand firmly on the blonde’s thigh. Enjolras’ head flew round and there was an anxious, questioning look in his eye – mixed with something that shown by anyone else R would call hope – and Grantaire surged forward and slammed their lips together.

Enjolras froze underneath his attention for a moment, before he kissed back just as hard. Grantaire had been surprised by him returning the kiss – though when he thought of it later he supposed he was so unsure of his actions he would have been surprised by anything the other man did.

Their kissing grew more and more heated. Grantaire felt himself getting lost in the sensations, and found himself stumbling after Enjolras into the other’s bedroom without fully realising what he was doing. He was sure he knocked a few things over on the way but neither he nor Enjolras paid them any attention. The artist quickly took charge and they were both naked and effortlessly moving together on the bed in no time. It seemed to last longer than the last few encounters had, and Grantaire found himself revelling in his sweat-soaked skin pressed against Enjolras, their lips constantly re-finding each other’s and the hands wandering and bringing each other pleasure. Grantaire came way too soon for his liking, and couldn’t stop his heart from swelling when Enjolras came at nearly the same time.

As soon as he came down from his orgasm, he rolled away from Enjolras, trying to put as much distance between them as he could. Of course he would have fucked that up as well. He had let his feelings get in the way. He pushed the warmth bubbling in his chest back down. However, when Enjolras’ turned to look at him and his blue, blue eyes shone with gratitude and endearment, R couldn’t hold onto his feelings. So instead, he jumped off the bed and pulled his clothes on. He ignored the way Enjolras hastened and struggles to get sat up and instead focused on anything but the blonde. That was the only way he would get through this.

“This could just be something we do.” He said as he zipped up his fly with slightly shaking fingers. “When we’re stressed or need to get out of our heads for a while, we can do this.”

“I…” Enjolras’ face was blank as Grantaire watched him while pulling his shoes on. The blonde cleared his throat, and tried again. “Yeah. That could work.”

Grantaire didn’t wait around much longer after that. He was finding it hard to get a hold of his feelings and he wouldn’t throw them on Enjolras. He could be there for him; he could help him. But he wasn’t stupid enough to think that would turn into something more. It would probably hurt him like hell being so close but not quite close enough, but he was sure it would be worth it.

-x-

The seventh time it happened, Enjolras was getting used to the situation.

They had just finished their midterm assessments for that semester and both of them were stressed. Enjolras from trying to juggle putting in enough effort to do reasonably well and still be as involved in his causes. Grantaire from putting off his portfolio work till the last minute so he had to put in much more effort to just pass.   
Enjolras was still a little hesitant when he went round R’s place on the Friday night after he handed in his last essay and sent off his next blog post for Combeferre to critique. He still didn’t know what had possessed he agreed to this arrangement after he had slept with Grantaire for the third time. He couldn’t see any possible way the situation could work out well, and yet he didn’t want to stop it.

His feelings for Grantaire, which he had only realised a few weeks before their first sexual encounter, were just growing stronger and stronger as he got closer to the artist. Every time he ended up at R’s place, either for sexual relief or not, he saw something new and found himself falling a little more for him. Whether it’s a book open t a page showing Grantaire’s fascinating annotations, pictures of his sporting events and triumphs or sketches of Les Amis, showing that R isn’t a true nihilist at heart because he does care for his friends. Enjolras knew he should stop it before he became too involved, because he would just end up hurt and probably hurting Grantaire too. However, he didn’t want to stop being close to the other man, even if just that way, and he didn’t want to risk losing the tentative thing they had built by rejecting him, even if R was just in this for the sex.

He was let in by a paint-covered and wild-eyes Grantaire who pulled him into a kiss as soon as the door was closed behind him. Enjolras just allowed himself to go along with R, being pulled into the bedroom and pushed onto the bed. The dark-haired male climbed on top of him and wasted no time in getting rid of both of their clothes. Enjolras kissed back and moved where he was directed by the artist’s skilled hands. It was just as good as it had been the other six times, and after Enjolras was left sated and pleasantly warm. He didn’t let the feeling rule his actions thought, so he got up and started getting dressed as soon as he had waited – enjoying the feeling and lying next to Grantaire – as long he could.

He was kind of surprised at how used to the situation he seemed to be. Even though his head was a mess over everything and he couldn’t explain his actions to himself, he easily fell into the role that he needed to be in to have this casual sexual relationship with Grantaire. He was getting used to being friends with benefits with the man he was seriously falling for, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

-x-

The twelfth time it happened, Grantaire was not in a good place.

He had watched Enjolras help at a community centre and persuade some new people to take an interest in the cause, and had been reminded of why he had fallen in love with the blonde in the first place. And then Enjolras had got into an argument with one ignorant dickhead at the centre who was refusing to budge in his intolerance. Enjolras was left stressed and angry after, and Grantaire knew he would probably want to have sex to help him relax. However R didn’t know if he could. He wanted to be able to help Enjolras, he wanted to be there for him but when his feelings were so close to the surface he doubted his ability to hide them. Yet, he still found himself at his place with Enjolras that night.  
They entered the bedroom much calmer than they usually did, and while Enjolras began undressing, Grantaire shut his curtains and turned the lights off. He wasn’t sure he could hide his feelings and he couldn’t risk Enjolras seeing any form of love in his eyes or softness on his face. Enjolras didn’t question the sudden change in the routine but he did quirk an eyebrow when Grantaire was slow to join him on the bed. That just made it worse for him, again feeling his feelings prickle at Enjolras being so understanding and accepting.

They kissed and touched, but Grantaire couldn’t get into the act, his mind full of doubts and worries about not being able to help Enjolras and accidently revealing his love for the blonde. Grantaire was sure Enjolras must have noticed, but the other man didn’t stop them. Eventually, his thoughts became too much and R pulled away, and the words to stop the encounter on the tip of his tongue when Enjolras’ legs shifted as he sat back to give the artist room and Grantaire focused on the firm, pale thighs.

Thoughts of his study of Classics flew through his mind and all the times he had jokingly called Enjolras Orestes and Antinous and Achilles. Maybe he could still do this despite his feelings taking over his mind and face.

“What are you-?” Enjolras tried to ask when Grantaire grabbed a hold of his hip and encouraged him to turn over. The blonde turned and looked back at Grantaire with questioning, but trusting, eyes. R was overwhelmed with the trust Enjolras was putting in him, when he didn’t really deserve it and he surge forward to slam their lips together. The kisses were heated and messy, and Grantaire positioned Enjolras the best he could while the other was twisted to kiss him back.

“Trust me.” Grantaire breathed once he had broken the kiss. He was not sure why he did so, considering how clearly he could how much Enjolras did trust him. The blonde gave a small smile and nodded, before turning and burying his face into one of the pillows.

Grantaire allowed himself to relax slightly now he knew Enjolras wouldn’t be able to see his face and the feelings he was sure were being displayed there. He pressed his front to Enjolras’ back and quickly lubed the pale thighs before he thrusted in between them, high enough to make sure his cock brushed against the blonde’s. The feeling was something Grantaire had never experienced before and it didn’t take him long to come in the tight space between Enjolras’ amazing thighs. And after Grantaire reached around to Enjolras’ front, it only took a few quick hard, strokes before the man beneath him finished as well.

Enjolras had left rather quickly after they had finished – so quickly that he left his underwear behind, which Grantaire would discover the next morning. The artist started drinking as soon as the other man had left his flat, taking deep gulps from the wine bottle that had been sat on the desk in his bedroom. He realised the friends with benefits relationship with the man he was in love with was not good for him. But instead of deciding to change anything, he drank more and promised himself he would make an effort to not let his feelings get in the way anymore.

-x-

The nineteenth time it happened, someone found out.

The rally Les Amis had been working on for weeks went well. Very well. There was no counter-protestors, no violence or illegal actions and they had gained a fair amount of interest for the cause – greater fairness in fund allocation for the university’s societies. Enjolras was ecstatic, riding his high from the positive outlook. They left the location of the rally in a splintered group, congratulating each other and making promises of parties and drinking. Enjolras agreed more readily than he usually did, his happier, open mood making him decide he had time to take a night off; to spend time relaxing with his friends.

Les Amis ended up in Combeferre and Enjolras’ building – the two best friends lived next door to each other – in the former’s flat. Bahorel and Feuilly made a run for alcohol and it didn’t take long for most of them to get drunk. Enjolras drank more than he usually would, and when Grantaire went outside for a cigarette and he followed, he wasn’t fully aware of what he was doing.

He stopped the dark-haired man from making it outside and instead pulled him into his own flat. He didn’t bother to shut the door properly before he attacked R’s neck with his lips and teeth. Grantaire let out a filthy moan and Enjolras shivered when the other’s hands found their way to his hips and arse. Enjolras lost track of time as his lips travelled up to Grantaire’s mouth and they made out against the wall just inside the flat. Their hands fumbled on each other’s bodies and yet there was no hurry in their actions. Neither made an effort to remove clothing or go any further than the occasionally brush under tops or over groins. Enjolras’ reduced inhibitions and his feelings became mingled in his mind and he moaned and smiled as he leant back against the wall and pulled Grantaire closer to him. They would have carried on that way for a long time, and Enjolras would have let his feelings show, if the door of the flat hadn’t then banged open.

Grantaire sprung backwards as though he had been burnt and stared in horror at Combeferre. ‘Ferre stood in the doorway staring between the two of them with shock. Enjolras tried not to let the artist’s complete horror at being caught with Enjolras hurt him too much. But he could not. He knew Grantaire had no qualms about the many friends of theirs who had accidentally walked in on him masturbating, and yet he was appalled at being caught in a sexual encounter with Enjolras. Probably because he didn’t want to be associated with him in this way since he was only in it for the sex.

“I’m sorry.” Grantaire fled the room as soon as he had spoken, pushing past Combeferre and not even looking back once at Enjolras. And that had hurt as well. Combeferre watched him go before turning back to his best friend, and Enjolras jumped to defend himself.

“I know what I’m doing. I’m not going to hurt him or let it get in the way. I’m in control of the situation.” He pushed himself off the wall and was glad that his voice stayed strong and didn’t betray him. He wasn’t sure why he was lying to Combeferre – it wasn’t something he did very often – but he couldn’t figure it out while he was still under the influence of the alcohol. Combeferre sighed and stepped forward to lay a hand on Enjolras’ shoulder.

“My main concern would not be _him_ getting hurt.” His best friend’s voice is strong and calm and, with the touch on his shoulder, it grounds Enjolras. “You’re an adult, you can make your decisions, and I’m not going to tell you how to live your life. Just please take care of yourself.”

Combeferre left his flat then, presumably returning to his own, and Enjolras collapsed on his couch. The alcohol was making his brain fuzzy and he couldn’t get Grantaire’s horrified expression and Combeferre’ words out of his mind. He just wished he knew what to make of them.

-x-

The twentieth time it happened, Grantaire marked the change in the relationship.

It had taken them a while to be comfortable around each other and Combeferre gain after he had walked in on them. Grantaire had been horrified at ‘Ferre seeing him in that situation with Enjolras, so sure the medical student would not take kindly to Grantaire having sex with his best friend. He had later regretted running away so suddenly, sure he would have given away his feelings some way. And yet, neither Enjolras nor Combeferre seemed more awkward than Grantaire expected them to be. He was glad at first; that meant he wouldn’t have to explain himself and get rejected by Enjolras – and they could even maybe carry on their arrangement. But then he felt the beginnings of unease at the situation. He tried to ignore it, but he couldn’t stop the doubts that were forming in the back of his mind now someone else knew what was happening.

It had been almost two weeks since he and Enjolras had last had sex. Grantaire wasn’t sure if their arrangement had ended or not, and he was unsure about where it stood. That night, they hadn’t had sex to get over stress, they had just done it. They were in good moods and under the influence of alcohol and Enjolras had just initiated it. Much like he had the second time this had happened. Grantaire couldn’t decide if it was change to their relationship that he welcomed and wished didn’t happen. The change meant he could be even closer to Enjolras; that Enjolras wants him more than just stress-relief, but it also means like he’s probably going to fall even harder. That he’s going to get caught in the mess even further.

He hadn’t sat at the back of the room in the Musain, like he usually did, on the night that he embraced the change. He ended up sat at a table with Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac as the three leaders of Les Amis de L’ABC worked on an important speech. Grantaire didn’t particularly want to be there – he just wanted to get drunk and he didn’t really have anything invested in the speech – but Enjolras had insisted. And Grantaire had never been able to deny Enjolras before. He sat mostly in silence, lost in his own thoughts, and offering small comments when one of them said something particularly too obnoxious and optimistic. Then he felt a foot brush his left leg and he was pulled out of his thoughts. He glanced beside him and Enjolras was looking at him with a mixture of hope and guilt.

He hoped he had read the emotions right, because what he had done next was risky. He looked at him directly and with purpose before standing up, but not breaking eye contact until they he was looking down at the blonde and he tilted his head towards the bathroom. Grantaire walked away then, not looking back and desperately hoping Enjolras would follow him. He was only left waiting in the bathroom for a few moments, before the blonde walked in and locked the door behind him. Grantaire sucked Enjolras off and Enjolras gave him a wonderful handjob. It was stuff they had done before, but it seemed different to Grantaire that time. It seemed better. And that was because they were doing it just because they wanted to.

-x-

The thirty-fourth time it happened, it was a very cold night.

They had tossed each other off while wrapped around each other on Enjolras’ bed and Enjolras was left feeling really good. He didn’t know else to describe it. The high feeling that left his mind running at a million miles an hour yet light and fluffy at the same time and filled his chest with a warmth pressure that made him not give a fuck about the cold outside. He had his heating on, so the room was warm itself, but the howling wind could still be heard and usually Enjolras would be curled up in his covers shivering. But that night he wasn’t.

Since they had started having sex because they wanted too, not just as stress-relief, Enjolras had fallen for Grantaire so hard. Nearly everything about the other man fascinated him, and those that didn’t – like the alcoholism – Enjolras just wanted to be to support him while he overcame them. In the deepest parts of his mind, Enjolras was starting to accept his feelings for R had developed into love, though he had refused to admit to fully admit it to himself before that night. They still argued, though Enjolras was excited by them more than angered, and instead of ending up not speaking to each other for days, they ended up in bed.

However, the only thing wrong was that they had fallen into a routine that made Enjolras head and heart ache. Every time they did something, where possible, Grantaire would turn all the lights off. It left Enjolras looking forward to their impromptu encounters in bathrooms and stairwells, because at least then he would be able to see Grantaire properly. And after every encounter, Grantaire never hung around. If they did it at Enjolras – which was there they had sex much more than anywhere else – he would leave almost immediately after, and although Enjolras knew R was just it in for the sex, it left him feeling empty and lost as he tried to sleep alone. And on the rare occasion that they did it at the other man’s flat, Grantaire would start making a show of how busy he was after they had finished. Enjolras didn’t need the performance anymore to know he wasn’t wanted.

Given how high he felt and how much he resented not being able to curl up against R’s strong, muscled body, Enjolras was only mildly surprised that the word actually tumbled from his mouth. “Stay.”

Grantaire spun round to gape at him with his trousers only on one leg and his t-shirt bunched up at one side. He looked completely dishevelled and Enjolras wanted to have him again – and then cuddle under the warm blankets and ignore the cold outside. The dark-haired man shut his mouth and ran a hand through his hair, looking around the room desperately like he was looking for an exit. He had glanced back at Enjolras for a moment and his dark blue eyes were wide with panic and his breathing was starting to get heavy. Enjolras hadn’t expected a positive agreement, but he definitely hadn’t expected this panicked response either.

“It’s really cold outside. It’ll be easier if you just stay here.” It’s not something Enjolras wouldn’t offer to any of his friends. Grantaire had stayed at his before.

But the artist didn’t say anything in response. Instead he bent and finished putting his trousers on and stepped into his shoes in a hurry. To say it stung would have an understatement for Enjolras. He felt as though his heart had been ripped in two at the complete, horrified rejection. It was like Grantaire couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as him for more than a few hours. It was like once he had gotten what he needed, he just wanted to be gone as soon as possible. It was like Grantaire could barely stand him.

That wasn’t a thought Enjolras had regularly entertained about R. Even from when they first met, the artist’s argumentative nature and joy in constantly putting him down seemed simply a part of his character; ways he used to actually help Enjolras. To Enjolras that had meant Grantaire must at least see him as a friend. And although there were moments that made him consider otherwise – like when Grantaire would be particularly mean – he was always convinced again that there was true friendship between them. He must have been fooling himself.

“I need to get back.” Grantaire finally said in a rush before he speared one last glance over his shoulder and left the room. Enjolras fell back on to his bed and tried to push back the tears filling his eyes as he heard his flat door slam shut.

He loved Grantaire.

-x-

The thirty-fifth time it happened, it was the last time.

Grantaire had planned the night out to the last detail, wanting to make it perfect. After the last time, when Enjolras had asked him to stay and he had panicked, he had gotten absolutely hammered. He had desperately wanted to forget what had happened in that room. When he had heard the word fall from those perfect, perfect lips his chest had begun to tingle, his breath grew more and more laboured and he just wanted to curl up in Enjolras’ wardrobe and hide. It was only when he had woken the morning after with a killer hangover that he realised he couldn’t keep doing it. He couldn’t keep having sex with Enjolras and ignoring his feelings. It was too hard and too painful. So he planned the perfect last night.

Before he had started this sexual relationship with Enjolras, Grantaire hadn’t had sex with anyone else. He’d had his fantasies and he had watched a hell of a lot of porn, so he was a little aware of what he was doing when he prepared to go all the way and have full, penetrative sex with Enjolras. Although, he would never, ever talk about the research he had done to make sure he knew what he was doing and not disappoint Enjolras – that was gone forever once he deleted his internet history.

He invited Enjolras around his, and waited with so much nervous energy that was pacing the flat and going over his plans in his head every two minutes. He was so scared in case something went wrong. However, when the blonde arrived, everything came to him as instinct. Grantaire pulled him into the flat and kissed him hard like he had so many time before – though that time there was a bitter taste to the warm joy as well. They kissed in the hall and then shed their clothes as they made their way to the bedroom.

Grantaire got Enjolras firmly laid on the bed, making him stay put with a firm kiss and carefully placed hands, and then fished the lube and condoms from where he had placed them on the bedside table. Enjolras seemed to understand exactly what he intended to and spread his legs easily. Grantaire fumbled when he saw the action, dropping the bottle on the bed and slamming his teeth together in an effort to stop himself from gaping. He had completely expected to guide Enjolras in taking him, to ride him until they both came. He had not prepared for Enjolras to easily spread his legs and accept Grantaire there.

He caught himself after only a few frozen moments and picked up the bottle before situating himself between the blonde’s legs. The legs quickly wrapped around his waist and Enjolras used them and hand on Grantaire’s shoulder to bring the artist down to lay on top of him. They kissed and both moaned when their erections brushed against each other.

“I trust you. Fuck me.” Grantaire shivered when the words were whispered in his ear and he wasted no more time.

He kissed Enjolras again and let his hands wander a little, tugging playfully at his nipple and scratching down his stomach and up his thighs. And Enjolras gave as good as he got. Grantaire had to fight to stay focused when the blonde bit at his neck and collarbone and squeezed his arse. Then Grantaire covered his fingers in lube and started working his fingers into Enjolras. They had gone that far twice before – the first time Grantaire had brought Enjolras to climax with his fingers, and only a few day later Enjolras returned the favour – but Grantaire was still nervous as he steadily opened the man shivering and twitching beneath him.

“Fuck!” Enjolras yelled out as Grantaire’s fingers brushed his prostate and his hands flew out to grab the dark-haired man’s neck. “R…” He trailed off and his eyes fluttered shut as R’s fingers did the same thing. Grantaire thought he looked beautiful, his skin red and glistening from the exertion and his body arranged as though he had fallen out of a classical painting.

He pulled his fingers out then – there was only one thing he wanted more than to continue fingering Enjolras at that moment, and that was to actually fuck him. He rolled on the condom and positioned himself, burying his face in Enjolras neck and revelling in the other man’s legs tightly squeezing his waist again, and pushed in. The sensation was beyond words and explanations for Grantaire. He let himself forget that sexual encounter was going to be the last and fully enjoy, putting everything he had into thrusting into the man beneath him and jerking him off as well. Enjolras pushed up off the bed into R’s body and scratched up his back and arms, most definitely leaving noticeable scratches.

“Enj.” He came after a deep thrust, mumbling Enjolras’ name into the blonde’s neck, and Enjolras finished after only one more tug at his cock. Grantaire rolled off Enjolras, tying and throwing away the condom, and then he collapsed back on the bed.

“Wow.” He had looked to the other side of the bed and saw Enjolras smiling at him. He smiled back at the blonde’s words, agreeing whole-heartedly with the sentiment. He had thrown an arm over Enjolras’ chest and snuggled into him. If that was the last him he got to have se with Enjolras, he was going to make the most of it. And that included cuddling. They had fallen asleep curled around each other.

-x-

When Enjolras wakes up, the first thing he is aware of is that he is in Grantaire’s room and said artist is wrapped around him, still sleeping. His first thought upon realising this is to enjoy the feeling and just go back to sleep, but then he remembers why he’s in the situation. He eases himself out of Grantaire’s hold and tries not to make too much noise as he gathers his clothes.

He cannot believe he ended up in his situation again. After the last time he had decided not to do it again, even talking to Combeferre about it and finding strength in his decision when his guide agreed. He loves Grantaire, and he had been half asleep when he got the text asking him round, so he hadn’t thought twice before going round. He runs a hand over his face and tries to stop himself breaking down over his love in his fuck buddy’s bedroom. His head is a mess. It has been for days after the realization that he does love the dark-haired man and he is only in the relationship for sex. He had realised his immediate thoughts that Grantaire couldn’t stand him were overreaching – something Combeferre had nearly beaten into him with a book – but he still can’t stop questioning it. He’s an idiot who keeps putting himself into situations where he’s going to hurt someone or get himself hurt. He can’t think straight being around Grantaire, and yet he can’t tear himself away from him.

He only manages to struggle into his boxers before his panic overwhelms him. He chest feels tight and his hands are shaking so much that he’s struggling to hold his top. He drops the piece of clothing and collapses to his knees, feeling warm tears slide down his cheeks and his breaths get caught in his throat. Before he can get a hold of himself again he’s starting t hyperventilate form his laboured breathing and he clenches his fists tight, his nails digging into his palm and drawing blood. His vision is blurry, his head is spinning and theirs a roaring in his ears that terrifies him.

Then there’s pressure on his shoulders and against his cheeks but it doesn’t matter because he still can’t breathe and his head is still spinning and his vision is still blurry. The roaring in his ears does dim slightly, and then he hears a low voice. He focuses on the voice, trying to see past the panic and the pain, and then the roaring lessens a little more and the voice filters through.

“…’ras. Come on, Enjolras. Just breathe. It’s oaky, everything’s okay. You just have to breathe.” Enjolras latched onto Grantaire’s voice and reached up with a shaky hand to latch onto one of his hands as well. The physicality helps him ground himself and he manages to get a hold of his breathing under Grantaire’s guidance. “There we go.”

Enjolras vision clears as his breathing clams down and he can soon see Grantaire’s face as well. He collapses into the dark-haired man, breathing a sigh of relief when R’s strong arms wrap around him to hold him. The panic attack has taken everything out of him, and he knows he could easily fall asleep in Grantaire’s comfortable hold, but he knows he can’t. He pulls away and the other man’s arms loosen their hold, but stay around him for support when he slumps again.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Grantaire jokes as he helps Enjolras stand up, though his voice sounds strained. But Enjolras can’t tell if that’s because his mind is still fuzzy or not. “You’ve just had a panic attack. You need to rest.” Enjolras lays down on the bed without much encouragement and feels himself slipping away as Grantaire covers him with the quilt again, and in his loose state he can’t stop the endearment from leaving his lips.

“I love you.”

-x-

Grantaire sits in his living room watching the sun rise outside his flat window and he feels like crying. He’s not sure how to handle the situation he’s found himself in. He had decided that last night would be his last night in the sexual relationship with Enjolras because he couldn’t take the man never feeling the same for him. And then he had just confessed his feelings.

He knows Enjolras. He doesn’t know as well as Combeferre and Courfeyrac, but with his ability to decimate the blonde’s arguments he’s found a place in his life and he’s got to know him well. And because he knows him well, he knows what Enjolras said was sincere. With anyone else the words could be explained away by the panic attack Enjolras had. But Grantaire knows Enjolras, and he knows anything he says in situations like that are always true.

Grantaire doesn’t know what to do with the revelation, even though he had been thinking about it since he had put Enjolras back to bed. He’s surprisingly calmer than he ever imagined he could be. On the rare occasion when he had imagined what would happen if Enjolras ever returned his feelings – though eh ad accepted that as near impossible – and all scenarios involved him panicking and fucking things up before they ever got going. And yet as he sits watching the sun rise, his mind is clear. He feels the urge to avoid the situation and bury himself into one of the bottles in his kitchen, but he knows that he can’t. Enjolras wouldn’t talk to him when he was drunk, and they need to deal with this now if they’re going to make anything of it.

A sound from his bedroom draws his attention and he jumps off his settee so he’s standing when Enjolras stumbles into the room. The blonde looks weary and exhausted but much more relaxed than he had when he had fallen asleep. Enjolras takes one look at Grantaire waiting for him, standing awkwardly, and his face grows panicked again.

“Shit!” Enjolras runs a hand through his hair and Grantaire moves over to him as quickly as he can. “Look, what I said-“

“I love you too.” Grantaire interrupts before Enjolras can talk himself into a panic.

“What?” Enjolras practically whispers and it takes all Grantaire has to keep himself together. Enjolras has never sounded that vulnerable when he wasn’t having a panic attack before, and it tore straight through Grantaire’s heart. Though it also made it clear that he had to stay strong because they had made an absolute mess of things.

“I…” He chokes off and has to close his eyes while he gathers himself. A hand takes his own, and he opens his eyes to see Enjolras smiling hopefully at him. It gives him strength. “I love you too. We’ve made a mess of things, but we love each other.”

Enjolras’ smile grows and Grantaire kisses him, softly and as meaningfully as he can make it. They still have to talk. They have to talk about a lot of things and will have to work hard to make any relationship work. But starting off on the same page is a good start.

-x-

Enjolras roles over and feels Grantaire’s arms shift to accommodate his changing position. He opens his eyes and smiled when R leans forward and kisses his cheek.

“Morning.” Grantaire whispers into the room and Enjolras forgoes answering in favour of burying deeper into his boyfriend’s hold. Even after a year together, the word still brings him so much joy.

He’s still surprised by how well they adapted to a relationship together – though none of their friends were. Enjolras got sick of hearing how they were practically together anyway after the fifth time Courfeyrac had said it. The adaption wasn’t easy, Grantaire’s – and in a way, their – apartment showing how hard they’ve had to work. The diary sitting on the desk with the dates of both of their next therapy appointments, the burnt marks in the kitchen from when they argued and forgot there was a pan on the hob, the grotesque mural hidden behind the bookshelf in the main room that Grantaire had painted when he had relapsed. It had been hard, but Enjolras is sure it is worth it, because he gets mornings like this. He gets mornings where all he has to do is be Enjolras and all Grantaire has to do is be Grantaire, and they just have to be together.

The thirty-five times they had sex before they sorted their feelings out hold a special place in their hearts. And are memorialised in the form of 35 black marks on the bedroom wall. Because although they were painful and did a lot of bad for them, they did happen. And they got them to this.


End file.
